Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12 Jason's POV I lie in bed, unable to sleep. Rest is impossible when my mind is plagued by her. Her scent lingers on my sheets—roses and something uniquely her—tormenting me, keeping me awake. I drag my hands down my face with a frustrated sigh. My heart is still racing, my body still burning with the memory of her. And my cock is still hard, despite the fact that I just came harder than I ever have in my life. The best orgasm of my life, and all she did was jerk me off. It wasn't just the act—it was her. The way she looked at me through her lashes, her breath coming in quick, heavy puffs, her face flushed in a mixture of shyness and arousal. She was the perfect contradiction—innocence and sin, wrapped in a body I wanted to worship. Still want to worship. Her moans echo in my mind, looping like my favorite song. And when I close my eyes, all I can see is her face as she came—eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, body trembling. I groan in frustration and push myself up. Maybe if I exercise, I can burn off some of this energy. Not that it'll help much—what I really want to do is throw her over my shoulder, take her back to my room, and bury my face between her legs again. I lick my lips, half-hoping I can still taste her. She has no idea how much I love the way she tastes. Shaking the thought away, I move to the corner of my room where I keep my workout equipment. I grab a dumbbell and start lifting, but my mind refuses to focus. All I can think about is Sienna. How would she look with my cock in her mouth? Her big hazel eyes looking up at me, cheeks flushed, lips stretched around me— I groan. I'm incorrigible. I don't know how she reduces me to a horny teenager. I barely kept myself together when I was eating her out, and I lasted embarrassingly short once she had her hands on me. God, I hope she doesn't think I always bust that quick. Though, honestly, I don't know how I'll ever not lose control with her. I switch from weights to push-ups, but it doesn't help. By the time I hit a hundred, my arms burn, but I'm still restless. With a sigh, I head to the shower. Under the spray, I try to clear my mind, but it's impossible. The second I close my eyes, she's there again—flushed, panting, her hands on me. My cock hardens again. I wrap my fingers around myself and stroke, fast and rough. I picture her on her knees, her lips parted, her tongue teasing me before taking me into her mouth. "Fuck," I hiss through clenched teeth. The image alone is enough to send me over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me, but the relief is short-lived. The second I come down, I already want her again. One taste, and I'm insatiable. One taste, and I'm addicted. ---The next morning, I'm grateful it's Sunday. I had a rough night, and my body still hasn't calmed down. I barely slept, and my constant hard-on is still making my life difficult. Sunday mornings are slower here—some students go to church, others take the chance to rest before the upcoming week. I decide to go for a run, hoping it'll kill off whatever lingering frustration is left in me. By the time I finish and shower, I feel slightly more human. Breakfast isn't served until 8:30, but I leave for the cafeteria early anyway. I tell myself it's because I want to eat before the rush, but I know the truth—I'm hoping she's already there. I need to talk to her. I have a lot to say, but mostly, I just want to make sure she doesn't regret anything. I think we left on good terms. I even kissed her before I walked her back to her dorm—not much, just a quick peck, but she didn't pull away. And she definitely enjoyed last night. She came twice. That has to count for something, right? I understand why she's hesitant. I respect it. But I know we could be good together. More than friends. More than best friends. She's everything. She's more than my other half—she's the best parts of me. I don't believe a relationship could ruin our friendship. If anything, it would make us stronger. Even if we dated, she'd still be my best friend. It's embarrassing to admit, even to myself, but I've thought about marrying her. I dream about it. I can't imagine my life without her. Even if she hurt me—even if she cheated—I'd still love her. We'd work through it. I'd do anything, anything, as long as it meant she stayed in my life. The only thing I couldn't survive is losing her completely. ---The cafeteria is nearly empty when I arrive—just a handful of early risers scattered across the tables. I don't have a regular seat. I usually just sit wherever the person I want to talk to is. And that person is always Sienna. But she doesn't like us openly interacting at school. I don't blame her—the drama surrounding me is exhausting. No matter how much I try to avoid it, everything I do ends up fueling the gossip mill. Every person I talk to becomes someone I'm supposedly dating or fighting or ruining. With a sigh, I pick a random table and wait. Slowly, the cafeteria fills up. A few people stop to talk to me, but they don't stay long. Maybe they pick up on the fuck off energy I'm giving, or maybe they just realize I'm barely paying attention. My mind is somewhere else. With someone else. After what feels like forever—but is probably only thirty minutes—she finally arrives. She looks good. Too good. I'm about to stand, about to make my way toward her, when Simon—some guy from my English class—steps into my path. I barely listen as he talks, my attention fixed on Sienna. But then— Then he says her name.